


Swish

by Suryaofvulcan



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-23
Updated: 2006-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 07:03:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8092342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suryaofvulcan/pseuds/Suryaofvulcan
Summary: Malcolm dresses for the occasion.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: A/N: Iâ€™ve just returned from a few days in my homeland, and I worked out this story to amuse myself during the long drive south. I canâ€™t claim credit for the joke at the end - in fact itâ€™s as old as the mountains and glens I was driving through.  


* * *

Malcolm Reed sauntered into the launch bay, allowing himself a small smile of satisfaction as he felt the swish of fabric against the backs of his legs. His smile widened as he caught sight of his partner among the small cluster of senior officers beside the shuttlepod. It looked like they were only waiting for their helmsman.

â€œHello, Trip,â€ he said quietly, coming to a halt beside the engineer.

Trip turned and cast his eyes over his partner, a slight frown of confusion creasing his brow. â€œUm, Malcolm?â€ he said, drawing Malcolm away from the group. â€œWhyâ€™re you wearinâ€™ a skirt?â€

Malcolm arched an eyebrow at him. â€œIâ€™m wearing nothing of the kind.â€

â€œYes, yâ€™are,â€ Trip insisted. â€œI câ€™n see yer knees anâ€™ everythinâ€™. Very nice, by the way,â€ he added.

â€œThank you.â€ Malcolm made a small adjustment to the swath of fabric that hung over his shoulder and down his back. â€œThis is full highland dress, menâ€™s formal wear, or, colloquially, a kilt.â€

â€œOkay,â€ Trip said, drawing out the second syllable. â€œBut whyâ€™re you wearinâ€™ it? This shindig on Dalriadaâ€™s supposed to be dress uniform.â€

â€œIf you check the uniform regulations, youâ€™ll find that paragraph four-nineteen allows national dress to be worn with the dress uniform jacket and rank insignia on appropriate occasions. Since this dinner is celebrating the establishment of the first Scottish colony, I felt it was time to celebrate my heritage.â€

â€œI didnâ€™t know you were Scotch. You donâ€™t have the accent.â€

â€œThatâ€™s Scottish, or Scots. The word â€˜Scotchâ€™ only applies to a fine, old malt whisky.â€

Trip rolled his eyes a little. â€œAlright â€¦ so, youâ€™re Scottish?â€

â€œYes, I am. Twice over, in fact.â€

â€œTwice? What dâ€™you mean?â€

â€œWell, my motherâ€™s Scottish. In fact, before she married my father, her name was Mary Stuart - you know, like Mary, Queen of Scots?â€

â€œYeah?â€ Trip raised his eyebrows.

â€œAnd my father, well he likes to think heâ€™s Scottish too.â€

â€œHow come?â€

â€œAbout a hundred years ago my great-grandfather migrated south and accepted the Anglicisation of his surname - from R-E-I-D to R-E-E-D. He assimilated, but his son - my grandfather - decided to resurrect his Scottish heritage. He immersed himself in the history, the literature and the culture, and he named his sons Stuart - my father - and Duncan. In fact, to hear my father tell it, he would have changed the surname back too, if it hadnâ€™t been such a palaver. My father and my uncle carried on the tradition, and passed it down to the next generation.â€

â€œHuh,â€ Trip said. â€œSo, lemme guess, that would be the Reid tartan?â€ He indicated Malcolmâ€™s kilt.

â€œRobertson, actually. The Reids are a sept of the Robertson clan.â€

â€œA what?â€

â€œA sept. A family descended from or related to a clan through marriage or some other form of allegiance.â€

â€œRight, I get you,â€ Trip nodded. Then a smile curved his lips, and Malcolm detected a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. â€œBut I do have one more question.â€

â€œWhatâ€™s that, Trip?â€ Malcolm decided to play along.

â€œAre you a true Scotsman?â€

â€œWhat do you mean?â€ Although Malcolm had a fair idea.

â€œWell, I did hear tell that, traditionally, nothingâ€™s worn under the kilt?â€

Malcolm grinned. â€œThatâ€™s correct. Itâ€™s all in perfect working order.â€

Tripâ€™s grin became a leer. â€œCâ€™n I check that out for myself?â€

â€œLater,â€ Malcolm replied as Travis hurried, apologising, into the launch bay, â€œbut only if youâ€™re very good.â€

 

THE END


End file.
